Long the waiting—many the tear 1
Dull the sight—alive the fear !
Weak the will—the effort faint!
Deep the 9igh—low the plaint!
Yet never a goal—but ends a way !
.Never a dark—but bears a day !
Never a strong—but feels u pain !
Never a fall—but brings a gain !
—James Mark Baldwin, in New York Independent.
i IN THE NICK OF TIME. J
j BY MARCO MORROW. \
"But I may count on you?" Tom
asked. "You know yon promised."
"Yes," I replied, "I promised, and
I'll keep my promise. I'll be your
best man. Not that I wouldn't like
to get out of it," I went on; "but you
insist, and I suppose that,—"
"Oh, come now," said Tom, "don't
go in for cynicism; that's cheap. Of
course, I'm willing to admit that
from yonr point of view, perhaps, Dor
othy Melton may have treated you
badly enough, but I wouldn't curse
the whole Bex and vail at matrimony
and all that. You'll get over it in
time, you know."
Tom is an old friend, and allows
himself liberties. I kept my head, and
replied calmly:
"I am not cynical, and I'm not
'railing' at matrimony. Moreover,
that little affair with the young woman
you mention, which I have quite for
gotten—"
Tom smiled in a peculiarly trying
manner.
"Which I have entirely forgotten—"
I repeated.
"And will forgei anew every day
you live," said Tom.
"Has had nothing whatever to do
with my dermination to devote myself
entirely to my profession. I have al
ready frittered away entirely too much
of my life on what we are pleased to
eall 'society.' But of course I'll keep
my promise to you."
"Now look here, old man," Tom
began; but he saw, I suppose, some
thing in my face which warned him
that I was not to be moved. At any
rate he laughed and shrugged his
shoulders, and then said:
"Well, I'll count on yon for best
•man. June seventh is the day, and I
hope you won't find it such an awful
bore as you seem to expect."
The marriage was to come off at
Biverton, and I congratulated myself
that the guests, with few exceptions,
would be Riverton folk whom I did
not know. I could do my duty by
Tom, take a last farewell of butterfly
society, and then settle down for good
upon the career which I fondly hoped
would end upon the supreme bench.
I would work,and work hard. Dorothy
Melton, with whom I quarreled fix
months ago, should never think that
she had broken my heart, or shattered
my life, or anything of that sort, for
«he hadn't. Hhe simply had revealed
t,o me the fickleness of her sex and
brought me to the realization that a
career, after all, is the only thing that
can really satisfy a man worth any
thing.
As tho time of Tom's wedding ap
proached I wrote him that I should
run down to Biverton 24 hours in ad
vance in order to attend to ail the
thousand and oue duties which de
volve upon the be-<t man; but at the
lost, moment my one really good clieut, i
u mau rich and cranky, succeeded in I
getting so hopelessly involved in an
injunction suit that nothing but im
mediate and earnest personal attention
could keep him from going to jail for
cout3inpt of court. I saved him from
that ignominy, bat only after spending
the entire morning of the wedding
day in court, and barely caught the
last train by which 1 could reach Riv
erton in time for the ceremony. Tom
and his friends would have to look
after the details of the wedding which
1 was compelled to neglect.
I had forgotten that Uncle William
Clarkson lived at Riverton, or I might
have been prepared for him; but be
fore the train had fairly stopped at
the station Uncle William was at my
side, grasping my hand and reaching
for my bag. "Here you are at last,"
he was saying. "I've been at every
train that came in today. You'vo got
togo up to the house with me and get
a little snack of something to »'at be
fore the wedding."
"But Tom—" I interposed.
"Oh, that's all right," said Uncle
William. "I've arranged it all with
your friend Tom, and I'll have you at
Christ chnrch in plenty of time for
the wedding. So come along; your
aunt's waiting for you."
Bealty, what could I do? I looked
about helplessly, hoping that Tom or
some of his friends would appear and
lay claim to me, but Uncle William
had evidently impressed upon them
that ho was going to have his own
way with me, and they came not.
Of course, I should have been very
glad to dine with Uncle William anil
Aunt Ms7garet, but when a fellow is
going to be best man at his beet
friend's weddinpr, and has only two
hours and a half before the ceremony,
he is not exactly in the mood for visit
ing even his nearest aud dearest rela
tives. I tried to say something of the
kind to Uncle William,butheretorted:
"Oh. pfihaw, now! There ain't a
thing to do,and what's the use of yonr
going to the hotel or to one of Tom's
friends' houses where they are already
running over with company? No use
at all. Your Aunt Margaret will give
you a nice little dinner right away,
yoB can get on yonr wedding togs and
get. to the church in plenty of time
without any of the faming and fussing
the others will go through. There's a
'phone' in the houso; you can let Tom
know you are here, and that's nil that's
necessary."
1 remembered that I did not espe
COOO AND EVIL.
For felt the evil—born the right!
Dense the darkness—keen the sight !
Grieved the weakness—gained the strength!
Strained the distance —home at length!
Clod is in us—this the strife !
Victory through us—thi9 is life !
The will to do—is virtue done !
The grief to lose—is goodness won !
cially care to meet more people than |
was necessary, but still it was with |
some misgivings that I followed my \
chipper, aud I am afraid somewhat
officious, uncle to his new town house.
At five o| clock I found myself in Aunt
Margaret's front parlor.
Uncle William called up Tom by
telephone, and after a few minutes'
chat with him I felt somewhat reas
sured. Dinner was announced very
early, and was soon over. As the
clock chimed six I went upstairs to
make a hurried toilet. But where was
my bag? I hurried downstairs again
aud put the question to Uncle Wil
liam.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "we must
have left it at the station!"
He hurried down town to fetch the
bag, promising to return "before you
know I'm gone;" but the minutes 1
slipped awav, and the carriage drove j
up to the gate before he got back. He ]
finally came, however.
• "Here you are," he said, as he j
handed me the bag. "Now you want j
to hurry, young man, or you'll be [
late."
I fairly jumped into my clothes, I
trusting to luck for appearance. As I
tied my cravat Uncle William tapped :
on the door.
"It's five minutes of seven!" he ex- j
claimed.
I couldn't say exactly what I wanted
to say, so I contented myself by giving
tlfe cravat a vicious twist. Three j
minutes later I dashed down the hnll, j
threw a good-by at Aunt Margaret and j
hurried into the yard.
The coachman was driving away. |
"Hi,there!" shouted Uncle William
froin the front steps. "Hold on there, |
driver! Wilson, stop that hack!"
Wilson was evidently Uncle Wil- I
liam's next-door neighbor. He was j
leisurely proceeding from his front j
gate to his own domicile. He turned
around slowly aud looked at the car- !
riage and then at Uncla William.
"What for?" he asked. "What's 1
the matter with it?"
"Hi, there, driver!" shouted Uncle
William again, as I tore down the
path.
The coachman drew in his horses i
with pn air of impatieut expectancy.
"What in the world do yon meau?"
cried Uncle William, puffing in anger, i
behind me.
"Yes, what do you mean,'' I echoed,
"driving off' without me?"
'•Why, sir," said the evidently J
greatly puzzled coachman, with a liod
of his head toward Mr. Wilson, "he
said for—"
"Well, well, well!'' cried Mr. Wil- j
son, joining us on the sidewalk. "What
does all this mean, anyway? What j
are you holding this carriage here
for?"
Uncle William began saying some- i
thing under his breath, but was '
checked by a feminine voice from the
carriage.
"Driver," it asked, "what's the
matter?"
"Oh!" exclaime 1 Uncle William, a
light breaking in upon him, "you've I
made a mistake here, Wilson. This
is a carriage I ordered to take my
nephew to the wedding."
"Oh,l guess cot," said Mr. Wilson,
bristling up more than ever. "This
is a carriage I ordered to take my .
niccj to the commencement."
The two men glare 1 at each other
like wild animals, and I turned from
one to the othe in hopeless perplex
ity.
"Drive on!" ci ted Mr. Wilson, aud
the driver drew up the reins.
"Hold on!" cried Uncle William, ;
and the driver loosened the reins. He
evidently enjoyed the situation.
The two men moved toward each ;
other, aud then Aunt Margaret came
down the path, hastening to the uu- !
tangling of Uncle William's mistakes, j
as she had been doing throughout '
their married life.
'This is a muddle," she said to Mr.
Wilson in her sweetest tones. "The .
stablemen have probably got the two I
orders confused."
"I don't know about that," said ,
Mr. Wilson, "but I've got the car- \
riaze*'
"But see here," putin Uncle Wil
liam, "Dick's best man,and he mustn't
be late at the wedding."
"I can't help that," retorted Mr.
Wilson. "My niece mustn't be late at
the commencement, either."
"I'll tell you," cried Aunt Margaret,
with sudden inspiration, "why can't
they go together? The seminary is
only a little ways beyond Christ
church. I know your niece won't
object if I explain."
Aunt Margaret dashed out into the
street toward the carriage, and I fol
lowed, wiping my moist brow, bewail- J
iug my wilting linen and consumed
with impatience.
In the next few seconds I heard
Aunt Margaret making a hurried ex- j
plauution which concluded with "Aw- ■
fully tfood of yon, I'm sure, but I '
knew you'd consent under the cir- 1
cuinstances;" then the door was flunct :
open,-Uncle William gave me a push
from behind, while Aunt Margaret
murmured introductions, and I found
myself stepping into a carriage which
seemed'filled with flowers and tinfl'y ]
I white stuff, from the midst of which j
i neered the face of—Dorothy Melton! I
"Why—Dick Mr.—" she cried,
half rising from her seat
I started back with a confused at
tempt at un apologv, but Uncle Wil
liam hastily slammed the door, and
with a commanding "Drive lively
now!" motioned the driver to start.
The horses were oflf with a jntnp, and
I sank into the seat opposite the young
woman whom six months ago I had
sworn never to see again.
It was the early dusk of what had
been a perfect June day. The street
lamps were not yet lighted, but the
bright moon shone iu at the carriage
windows, and I knew Dorothy could
see my hot, flushed face and iny ner
vousness and embarrassment
"Miss Melton," I began, feeling
that I must say something, "I'm ex
tremely sorry to intrude upon you in
this mauner. I had no idea—"
"Ob, pray do not mention it," said
Dorothy. "I am, of course, extreme
ly glad to be of any service whatevei
to Mi s. t'larkson, and it would be too
bad for you to be late at the wed
ding."
Dorothy was quite mistress of her
self. She held a large bunch of roses
in her arms, having gathered them up
to make room for me; the color, which
I think left her face for an instant
when she saw it was I who climbed
into lier carriage, returned; her eyes
sparkled, and never had she looked so
lovely. What a fool, 1 thought, bit
terly, what a fool I had been to quar
rel with her.
"It's to be quite a large wedding, I
believe?" she said, turning her face
full upon me.
The driver was evidently intent upon
reaching the church in time. He turned
a corner so sharply that just as I was
about to stammer out a commonplace
about the wedding we both were near
ly thrown from our seats. Dorothy
threw up her hand, her roses fell in
confusion, and as I bent forward her
dainty lingers lightly brushed my
face—
"Oh, Dorothy! Dorothy!" I cried;
and then—
I'm sure that I couldn't tell what I
said. I only know that the words I
had been holding back, the love that
I had been trying to stifle for six
months, burst from me, and before we
reached the next corner Dorothy lifted
her shining eyes, and through tears
said:
"Oh, Dick! Dick!" and I knew every
thing was right, and wished that
Christ church was 20 miles away.
The carriage pulled up at the church
door iu the nick of time, and dashed
away again to leave Dorothy at the
young ladies' seminary where she ba.l
beeu teaching for a few months.
I found Tom iu the vestry, so su
premely happy that he had not even
noticed my tardiness—but, for that
matter, I walked in the clouds all
evening, and noticed nothing what
ever that happeued at his wedding,
so we are quits on that score.
Dorothy and I will be married in
September, and Unc'e William, who
insists that his "good management"
brought it all about, ha®, promised to
set us up with a carriage of our own
ou the day of the wedding. —Woman's
Home Companion.
Q'JAINT AND CURIOUS.
The whistling tree which is found
iu the West Indies, in Nubia aud the
Soudan, has a peculiarly shaped leaf
and pods with a split edge. The wind,
passing through these produces the
sound which ghes the tree its name.
Thirteen old horseshoes were hang
ing last spring on the back of a garden
wall close to an old boiler which work
men were removing and replacing by
'a new uiie—a very noisy piece of work
—when, in no wise deterred by this,
a pair of wreus built their nest in the
midst of the cluster of horse-hoes and
then brought up their young. The
mother bird, haviug lieea found one
day drowned in a pail of wnter, stand
ing near, her mate teuded aud cared
for their young until they were Hedged
and flown. The horseshoes containing
the nest still hang on the wall at Ever
thorpe Hall, Brough, East Yorkshire,
England.
In the Bay of Plenty, Xcw Zealand,
is one of the most extraordinary isl
ands in the world, it is called White
island, and consists mainly of sulphur
mixed with gypsum aud a few other
minerals. Over the island, which is
about three miles in circumference,
and which rises between 800 feet aud
900 feet above the sea, floats continu
ally an immense cloud of vapor, at
taining an elevation of 10,000 feet
In the centre is a boiling lake of acid
cliarged water, covering 50 acres, aud
surrounded with blowholes from which
steam aud sulphurous fumes are emit
ted with great force and noise. With
care, a lioat can be navigated ou the
lake. The surphur from White Island
is very pure, but little effort has yet
beeu made to procure it systemati
cally.
One of the most peculiar accidents
ever heard of happened to a colored man
near New Store, Va., a few days ago.
Ed Jones took his gun and set out for
a day of sport. He was not looking
for large game, but he had not beeu
iu the woods loug before he saw an
immense deer coming at a tremendous
rate of speed immediately towatd him.
He at once fell upon his knees, pre
paratory to a shot, aud when the deer
was within '2O feet of him fired anil
missed his aim. The deer had ac
quired such tremendous momentum
that it could not check itself, and
with the next leap landed upou the
hunter. It knocked him down and
bruised him badly upon the breast
with one hiud foot., the other going
into the negro's mouth, knocking ont
a number of his teeth, tearing a part
of his gums away, aud passing dowu
his throat. The whole thing was over
in an ius'aut, hut wlsea he came to
the deer was gone.
DR. TALMAGE7S SERMON.
iUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THE NOTED
DIVINE.
Subject: What Religion Doon For the
Prolongation of Human Life—Religion
is Not a Ilear.e—Care of the Health a
I'ositive f;iiri.tlau Duty.
(Copyright IWO.I
WASHINGTON, D. C. —This sermon of Dr.
Talmage presents a gospel for this life its
well as the next and allows wbat religion
does for the prolongation of earthly exist
ence; text, Psalm xcl., 16, "With long life
will I satisfy him."
Through the mistake of its friends relig
ion has been chiefly associated with sick
beds and graveyards. The whole subject
to many people Is odorous with chlorine
and carbolic acid. There are people who
cannot pronounce the word religion with
out hearing In it the clipping chisel of the
tombstone cutter. It is high time that this
thing wore changed and that religion, In
stead of being represented as a hearse to
carry out the deßd, should be represented
as a chariot in which the living are to tri
umph.
Religion. so far from subtracting from
one's vitality, is a glorious addition. It is
sensitive, curative, hygienic. It is good
for the eyes, good for the ears, good for
the spleen, good for the digestion, good
for the nerves, good for the muscles. When
David, in another part of the Psalms, prays
that religion may be dominant, he does
not speak of it as a mild sickness or an
emaciation or an attack of moral and
spiritual cramp. He speaks of it as "the
saving health of all nations," while God in
the text promises longevity to the pious,
saying, 'With long life will I satisfy him."
The fact is that men and women die too
soon. It is high time that religion joined
the hand of medical science in attempting
to improve human longevity. Adam lived,
930 years; Methuselah lived 989 years. As
late in the history of the world as Vespa
sian there were at one time in his empire
forty-five people 135 years old. So far down
as the sixteenth century Peter Zartnn dlod
at 185 years of age. I do not say that relig
ion will ever take the race back to ante
diluvian longevity, but I do say that the
ieugth of human life will be greatly im
proved.
It is said iu Isaiah Ixv., 20, "The child
shall die 100 yoars old." Now, if, accord
ing to Scripture, the child Is to be 100
years old may not the men and women
reach to 300 and 400 and 500? The fact is
that we are mere dwarfs and skeletons
compared with somo of tho generations
that are to come. Take the African race.
They have beeu under bondage for cen
turies. Give them a chanee, and they de
velop a Toussaint TOuverture. And if the
wlilte raeo shall bo brought out from under
tlie serfdom of sin what shall be the body,
what shall be the soul? Religion lias only
just touched our world. Give it full power
for a few centuries, and who can tell what
will be the streugth of man and the beauty
of woman nnd the longevity of all?
My design Is to show that practical re
ligion Is the friend of longevity. I prove
It, first, from the fact that it makes tho
care of our health a positive Christian
duty. Whether we shall keep early or late
hours, whether we shall take food digest
able or indigestable, whether thoreshull be
thorough or incomplete mastication, are
questions very often referred to the roalm
of whimsicality, but tho Christian man
lifts this whole problem of health into the
accountable nud the Divine. He says, "God
has given mo this body, and He lias callod
It the temple of tho Holy Ghost, and to de
face its altars or mar Its walls or crumble
its pillars is n God defying sacrilege." He
sees God's caligraphy in every page—ana
tomical and physiological. He says, "God
has given me a wonderful body for noble
purposes." Tlint arm with thirty-two cur
ious bones wielded by forty-six curious
muscles, and all under the brain's teleg
raphy 350 pounds of blood rushing
through the heart every hour, the heart in
twenty-four hours beating 100,090 times,
during the same time the lungs taking iu
llfty-seveu hogsheads of air, and all this
mechanism not more mighty thau delicate
and easily disturbed ana demolished.
The Christian man says to himself, "If I
hurt my uervos, if I hurt my brain, if I
hurt any ot my physical faculties, I insult
(iod ami call for dire retribution." Why
did God tell the Levites not to offer to Him
In sacrlllce animals Imperfect and diseased?
Ho meant to tell us in all the ages that we
are to offer to God our very best physical
con iitlon.and a man who through Irregular
or gluttonous eating ruins his health is not
offering to God such a sacrifice. Why did
Paul write for his cloak at Troas? Why
should such a great manns l'aul be anx
ious about a thing so insignificant as an
overcoat? It was because he knew that
with pneumonia and rhematisin ho would
not be wortn half as much to God and tho
church as with respiration easy and foot
free.
When it bocomes ft Christiau duty to take
care of our health, is not the whole ten
dency toward longevity? If I toss my
watch about recklessly and drop it on the
jiavement nnd wind it up at any time of
day or night I happen to think of it, and
often lot it run down, while you are careful
with your watch and never abuse it and
wind it up just at the same hour every
night nnd put it in a place where it wiil
not sulTer from the violent changes of at
mosphere, which watch will last tho
longer? Common sense answers. Now.
the human body is God's watch. You see
tho hands of the watch. Yon see the fare
of tho watch, but tho beating of the boart is
the ticking of the watch. Oh, be careful
and do not let it run downl
Again, I remark that practical religion
is a friend of longevity In the fact that it
is u protest against dissipations which in
jure and destroy tho health. Had men
and women ilvo a very 9liort life. Tljeir
sins kill them. I know hundreds of good
old men, but I do not know half a dozen
bad old men. Why? They do not got old.
Lord Byron died at Missolongbl at thirty
six years of nge, himself his own Maxeppa,
his unbridled passions the horse that
dashed with hlui Into the desert. E igar
A. Poo died at Baltimore at thirty-eight
years of aga. Tue black raven that
alighted ou his bust above his chamber
door was delirium tremens.
Only this and nothing more.
Napoleon Bonuparte livud only just be
yond midlife, then died at .St. Helena, and
one of his doctors said that bis disease wns
induced by excessive snuffing. The hero
of Austerlilz, the man who by one stop of
his foot in the center ol Europe shook tho
earth, killed by a snuffbox. Oh. how many
people we have known who have not lived
out half their days because ot their dissi
pations and indulgences. Now practical
religion is a protest against all dissipation
of any kind.
"But," you sav, "professors ot religion
have fallen, professors of religion have got
drunk, professors of religion have misap
propriated trust funds, professors of rolig
ion have absconded." Yes, but they threw
away their religion before they did their
morality. If u man ou a Wliito star line
steamer bound for Liverpool in mid-At
lantic jumps overboard and Is drowned, is
t hat anything against the White Stur line's
capacity to take the man across theO''enu?
And if a raau jumps over the ginwale of
hls religion and goes down never to rise is
that any reason for your believing that re
ligion has no capacity to take the man
clear through? In the oue case if he had
kept to the steamer his bod.v would have
been saved; In the other case if lie had kept
to his religion his morals would have been
saved.
There are nged people who would have
lieeu dead twenty-live years ago bat for
the defenses and the equipoise of religion.
You have no more natural resistance than
hundreds of people who lie :n the ceme
teries to-day slain by th«ir owsi vlce<. The
doctors mndo their case a» kind and pleas
ant as they could, and it was called con
gestion of the liraiu oroometbing else, but
the snakes and thu bla- flies that seemed
to arnwl over the pillow fn the sig ut of the
delirious patient showed what was the
matter with him. >ou, the aged Christian
man, walked along by that unhappy one
until you came to the golden pillar of the
Christian life. You went to the right; he
went to the left. That Is all the difference
between you. Oh, If this religion is a pro
test against all forms of dissipation then it
Is an Illustrious friend of longevity! "With
long life will I satisfy blm."
Again, religion is a friend of longevity fn
the fact that it takes the worry out of our
temporalities. It is not work that kills
men; It is worry. Wheu a man becomes a
genuine Christian, ho makes over to God
not only his affections, bat his family, his
business, bis reputation, his body, his
mind, bis soul—everything. Industrious
be will be, but never worrying, because
God is managing bis affairs. How can lie
worry about business when in answer to
lii 9 prayers God tolls blm when to buy and
when to sell, and, If he gain, that is best
and, if he lose, that is best?
Suppose you hud a supernatural neighbor
who came in and said: "Sir, I want you to
call on me in every exlgonoy. I your
fast friend. I could fall back ou f20,000,-
000. I hold the controlling stock in thirty
of the best monetary Institutions of this
country. Whenever you are in any trouble
call on me, and I will help you. You can
have my money, and you can have my In
fluence. Here is my hand In pledge of it."
How much would vou worry about busi
ness? Why, you would say, "I'll do the
best I can, and then I'll depend on my
friend's generosity for the rest."
Now, more than that is promised to
every Christian business man. God says
to him: "I own New York and London und
St. Petersburg and Pekin, and Australlu
and California are Mine. I cun foresee a
panic 1000 years. I have all the resources
of the universe, and I am your fast friend.
When you got in business trouble or any
other trouble, call on Me, and I will help.
Here Is My hand In pledge of omnipotent
deliverance." How much should that
man worry? Not much. What lion will
dare to put his paw on that Dnnlel? Is
there not rest in this? Is there not an
eternal vacation in this?
"Oh," you say, "here is a man who asked
God for a blessing In a certain enterprise,
and he lost 85000 in it. Explain that." "I
will. Yonder is a factory, and one whoel
Is going north and the other wheel is go
ing south, nnd one wheel laterally and the
other plays vertically. Igo to the manu
facturer, and I say: "Oh, manufacturer,
your machinery is a contradiction. Why
do you not make all the wheels go oue
way?" "Well," he says,"l made them to
go iu opposite directions on purpose, and
they produce the right result. You go
down stairs and examine the carpets we
are turning out fn this establishment and
you will see." I go dowu on the other
floor, and I see tho carpets, and 1 am
obliged to confess that though the wheeze
in that factory go in opposite directions
they turn out a beautiful result, ami while
I am standing there looking at the oxquls-
Ite fabric an old Scripture passage comes
into my mind—"All things work together
for good to them who love God." Is there
not rest in that? Is there not tonic in
that? Is thero not longevity in that?
Suppose a man is nil tho time worried
about his reputation. Oue man says he lies,
another says he is stupid, another says he
Is dishonest, and half a dozen printing es
tablishments attack him, and lie is inn
great state of excitement anil worry and
fume and cannot sleep, but religion comes
to him and says:"Man, God is ou your
side; He will take care of your reputation.
If God be for your, who can be against
you?" How much should that mau worry
about his reputation? Not much. If that
broker who some years ngo In Wall street,
after he had lost money, sat down and
wrote n farowell letter to hi 9 wife before
ho blew bis brains out; if instead of taking
out of hlsjioeket a pistol he had taken out
a well read New Testament, there would
have been one less suicide. Oil, nervous au i
feverish people of the world, try this al
mighty sedative! You will live twenty-five
years longer under its soothing power. It
is not chloral that you want or morphine
that you want; it is the gospel of Jesus
Christ. "With long life will I satisfy him."
Again, practical religion is a friend of
longevity in tho fact that it removes all
corroding care about a future existence.
Every man wants to know what Is to be
come of him. If you get on board a rail
train, you want to know at what dopot it
is going to stop. If you get ou board a
ship, you want to know into what harbor
it is going to run, and if you should tell
me you have no iuterest in what is to be
your future destiny I would iu ns polite
a way as I know bow tell you I did not be
lieve you. Before I had this matter settled
with reference to my future existence, the
question almost worried me into ruined
honlth. The anxieties men have upon this
subject put together would ranke a martyr
dom. This is a stale of awful unhealthl
ness. There are people who fret them
selves to death for fear of dying.
Accept that sacrifice and quit worrying.
Take the tonic, tho inspiration, the long
evity of this truth. Religion is sunshine;
tlint is health. Religion Is fresh air and
pure water; thov are healthy. Religion is
warmth; that is healthy. Ask all tho doc
tors, nnd tliev will tell you that a quiet
conscience and pleasant anticipations are
hygienic. I offer you perfect peace now
and hereafter.
Well, you defeat me in my three experi
ments. "l have only one more to make, nnd
If you defeat me in that I am exhausted,
A mighty one on a knoll back of Jerusalem*
one day,"the skies filled with forked light
nings uud the earth with volcanic disturb
ances, turned His pale and agonized face
toward tho heavons nnJ said: "I take the
sins and sorrows of the agos into My own
heart. lam the expiation. Witness earth
and heaven and bell, I am the expiation."
And the hammer struck Ilim and the spears
punctured Him, nnd lienven thundered,
"The wages of sin is death!" "Tho soul
that sinneth it shall die!" "I will by
no moans clear the sruilty!" Then
there was silence for halt au hour, and
the lightnings were drawn back into tho
scubbard of the sky and tho earth censed
to quiver nnd ail the colors of the sky be
gan to shift themselves into a rainbow
woven out of the falling tears of Jesus, and
there was red us of the hloodsheddlug, nud
thero wns blue as of the bruising, nnd thero
wns green as«of the heavenly foliage, and
there was orange ns of the day dawn. And
along tho lino of the blue I saw the words,
"I was bruised for their iniquities." And
along the line ot the red I saw the words,
"The blood ot Jesus Christ clennseth from
all sin." And alone tho line of the green
I saw the words, "The leaves of the tree of
lite for tho healing of tho nations." And
along the line of the orange I sav/ tho
words, "Tho day spring from on high hath
visited us."
What do you want in tlie future world?
Tell rae, and you shall lmvo it. Orchards?
There are tho trees with twelve manner of
fruits, yielding fruit every month. Water
scenery? There is the river of life, from
under tho throne of God, clear as crystal
and tho sea of glass mingiod with lire." Do
you want music? There is tho oratorio of
the Creation led on by Adam, and tho ora
torio of the Red Sea led on by Moses, and
the oratorio of tho Messiah led on by St.
Paul, while the archangel, with swlnglug
baton, controls the one hundred and forty
four thousand who maks un the orchestra.
l>o ycu wnut reunion? There are your
dead children waiting to kiss you, waiting
to embrace yon, waiting to twist itarlands
in your hair. You have beeu accustomed
to opeu the door on this sido the sepulcher.
1 open the door on tho other side tho
sepulcher. You have been accustomed to
walk in the wet grass on the top of the
grave. 1 show you tho underside of th»
grave. The bottom has fallen out, and the
loug ropes with which the pal'heurers let
down your dead let thera clear through
into heaven. Glory be to God for tbis
robust, healthy religion. It will haven
tendency to inuke yon live long in thl»
world, uud in the world to come you will
hnveeternnl life "With life will 1
satisfy him."
THE GREAT DESTROYER.
SOME STARTLING FACTS ABOUT
THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE. I
Reinforcement*—A Distinguished Eilito*
Makes > Pertinent Suggestion to Pro
feMor Atwater—Tlie Scientist's Deduc
tions Reduced to an Absurdity*
(A Song ot Yesterday, To-day and To-mor
row.)
BY LILIAN M. DEATH.
'Twas a hush before the battle like the stllU
ness of the deep,
As the hosts of mighty warfare rested arma
In seeming sleep,
While In ohalns of helpless bondage lay out
proud Columbia, prone
In the thralldom of a tyrant worse than
e'en the Boer has known.
Hark! through the distance
Floats a martial song.
Half, reinforcements!
Bight faces Wrong.
Then awake, ye loyal-hearted!
To your captain still be true;
Ere the triumph that is coming.
There is glorious work to do.
Banish weariness and sighing,
To our ranks recruits are hieing.
Rejoice, Columbia! the Right shall win
the day.
O'er the hillsides they are coming, with
their banners wlilte and gold,
Through the city and the wlldwood, swell
ing numbers yet untold;
From the valley, plain and mountain, strong
recruits we still may see.
Eager for the captain's order, "Charge! and
set Columbia free."
Hark! o'er our campflres
Bounds the martial song.
Hail, reinforcements!
Right faces Wrong.
Yes, the time of waking cometh, and the
hour is close at hand
When King Alcohol, defeated, shall be
driven from the laud.
See! the mist is swiftly rising 'neath the
glory of the sun.
Soon the conflict will be over—soon tho
victory will be won.
Hark! through fierce battle
Rings the martial song.
Hall, reinforcements!
Right faces Wrong.
A Suggestion to frofesaor Atwater.
Professor W. O. Atwater, of Wesleyac
University, whose experiments in the mat
ter of the use of alcoholic liquors as food
are familiar to the temperance people
throughout the country and have been
much commented upon during the past
six months, is again being vigorously
quoted by the pro-liquor press as having
attacked the scientific accuracy ot the
temperance instruction text books now in
use in the public schools. The New Voioo
entertains profound respect for Professor
Atwater as a scholar and as a gentleman,
and is thoroughly convinced of his hon
esty in the positlou he has taken and of
the essential accuracy, so far as they have
been carried out, of his experiments.
We say this without any disposition to
concede the case at issue, but merely as a
recognition ot the fact that certain valua
ble and interesting data have been gath
ered by Professor Atwater's labors. Pro
fessor Atwater has discovered that a sub
ject shut in an air-light chamber and fed
partially with alcohol does not exhibit the
well known symptoms of poisoning that
the use of alcohol produces in every day
life. If now upon the strength of this, he
feels that be must assail the teachings of the
text books concerning alcoholic poisoning,
we beg to suggest to him that there is an
other universally accepted belief that
ought at the same time to be assailed. 11 is
this: We have always been told that car
bonic acid gas, as exhaled from the human
body or coming from other sources, Is preju
dicial to the physical health, and that a
man obliged to live in an atmosphere heav
ily charged with that gas would suffer se
rious inconvenience from it. Every prac
tical work upon hygiene devotes much
space to this idea and to cnutions based
upon it. Now the fact is, as the writer or
this editorial Is told by the gentleman un
der whose immediate supervision Profes
sor Atwater's experiments were conducted,
that the subject who was shut up in the
calorlmetre and who there confined did
not exhibit the usual symptoms of alco
holic poisoning, was all that time living
without apparent evil results in an atmos
phere heavily charged with carbonic aciJl
gas.
Now we submit that if Professor Atwa
ter feels that, in view of the discovery that
a man may, in tho calorlmetre, take alco
hol In certain moderate quantities mid not
flnd it a poison, but rather seem to devel
op energy from it, ho must attack tho
teachings of the text books which hold
that alcohol Is a poison, ou?ht ho not also
to equally attack the common beiiof and
the universal teaching that carbonic acid
gas is poisonous?
Girls Checking Intemperance.
Mrs. L. M. N. Stevens, President of the
National Woman's Christian Temperance
Union, writing of "What Girls Cau Do to
Check Intemperauce," says:
"First, theexample ot her own lifeshould
be that of total abstinence. On the Queen's
Jubilee Day, In June, 1897, at the banquet
table of the Lord Mayor of London, a
young woman was urged to have her glass
tilled with Vine. She firmly declined, say-
Jug in a sweet, strong voice, 'I never taste
that which I know may do another harm.'
This course was safe for herself, but, more
than that, she set a safe example for others
about her, and she will never know the
good which came because of her decision
and her bravery in declaring it. Girls
should be self-respectful; to take wine or
alcoholic liquors because invited to do so
shows a lack of courage and self-reliance.
Young women should reaulre that the
young men with whom they associate
should be as good as they themselves aro.
Are they total abstainers from principle?
By the same token, the young men should
be total abstainer*.
"If the young women of our Nation.witli
so much of life before them, with all or
their enthusiasm and ability, would be
strict total abstainers from all that can in
toxicate, Including wlue, beer and older; if
they would try in all reasonable ways to
win others to do the same; if they would
stand opposed to the trafflo in alcoholic
liquors, the day would be greatly hastened
when the shadows caused by intemperance
shall flee away, and when uothing In the
shape of strong drink 'shall hurt or destroy
In all God's holy mountain."'
You Cannot Drink Without Injury.
A man is like a thermometer. His spir
its are equable—nolthor joyous nor sad.
He takes a drink. It fills him with joy.
When be recovers from its effects the re
action carries him just as far in the other
direction. You cannot take a drink of
whisky without an injury, either mental
or physical. Let it alone. —New York
Journal.
The Saloon In the Way.
Dr. J. G. Evans, a prominent Methodist
minister, speaking of the twentieth cen
tury movement ot his church to ralso $20,-
000,000 and secure the conversion ofa mill
lon BOUIS by the close of 1901, says: "With
the 9aioon out of the way It would be far
easier to raise $39,009,030 and win two
million souls than to raise $20,000,000 and
Win a million souls to Christ, with 250,900
saloons In full blast in their work ot
pauperising men and damning souls, and
especially when this awful crime is per
petuated through the suffrage of Christian
voters whose prayers oro solicited for the
conversion of souls."